Free Margaret Moore by Scoundrels Kiss Page A

the large silver buckles on the duke’s shoes.
    “London has missed your distinguished presence, my lord,” the duke said.
    “London is missing many things these days,” the earl retorted, “like sense and morals.”
    “It was lacking even more until the arrival of your beautiful and charming companion. A pleasure to have you among us, Lady Arabella,” the duke said as he swept the plumed hat from his head and bowed again.
    He reached out to take her hand and leaned forward to kiss it.
    The last thing Arabella wanted was to have her hand touched by the duke’s painted lips, for the man’s appearance and insolence disgusted her. Unfortunately, the crowd continued to press around them and look at them with curiosity, so any action on her part would likely have drawn more attention. Therefore she allowed him the liberty.
    “Odd’s bodikins!” a familiar voice drawled from close by. “George Villiers, as I live! And—can it be? Not my own esteemed parent! With the lovely Lady Lippet, too.”
    Arabella might have welcomed the Devil himself if he had allowed her to retreat from the decadent duke. Instead, it was Neville Farrington who appeared at her side.
    “What are you doing here?” the earl demanded.
    “Is this not my natural habitat?” his son replied with an elegant smile and an impudent languor that was a match for the duke’s.
    In contrast to the duke, however, Neville’s plain yet well-fitting black jacket, simple lace jabot, white shirt and black breeches seemed a model of restraint. And he still looked astonishingly splendid, whereas the duke looked more like a court jester than a courtier. “I would say it is you who do not belong here,” Neville continued.
    “I can go wherever I like!” the earl rumbled.
    “Indeed you may,” Neville replied carelessly. “No father exists to censure you.” He turned to the duke. “I see you are making the acquaintance of my father’s ward.”
    “His ward?” Villiers replied with a knowing smirk that made Arabella flush hotly.
    “Yes, his ward. To suppose otherwise would be to insult her and my father, eh, Villiers?” Neville Farrington’s tone did not alter, yet there came a hostile look into his eyes that told Arabella that whatever his outward appearance and manner, Neville could indeed be a dangerous man.
    “And dear Lady Lippet—how long has it been? How many months since you told the king I cheated him at piquet? Fortunately, wehad been playing cribbage. An honest mistake, I’m sure.”
    “Yes, yes, it was,” Lady Lippet said, blushing beneath her face paint. “Someone told me you had, and of course I thought only to warn the king—”
    “Of course, of course. Duty and honor and all that. I quite understand,” he replied, but the expression in his eyes was not a pardoning one.
    “Your charming and esteemed father was so good as to address himself to me,” the duke said.
    “Really? I’m sure he was all civility.” Neville gestured at the woman standing beside the duke. “Who is this lovely creature we are all ignoring?”
    “That is Mrs. Hankerton, my particular friend,” Villiers replied.
    “Delighted, Mrs. Hankerton, the duke’s particular friend!” Neville said, making an elegant bow, amply demonstrating his virile grace.
    The woman, whose face bore a heavy coat of cosmetics and whose hair was as false as the duke’s, made no attempt to hide her pleasure at Neville’s notice. She actually preened, laying a hand to her rather astonishing cleavage as she curtsied in acknowledgement.
    “I trust the duke is usually more attentive,” Neville said sympathetically. “Now you really must meet Lady Arabella, my dear. I am quitesure you will find you have much in common with her.”
    Arabella, who could easily guess the nature of the woman’s friendship with the duke, wanted to slap Neville Farrington’s handsome, audacious face.
    Her wits must have been addled to take any comfort at all from his presence!
    The duke made a